Nexus Event - Chapter 12 (NSFW) (Patreon)

I set down the platter on the small stone and eased myself into the sand beside the lapping waves. Sara was curled up next to me, silently accepting the offered mug of hot chocolate as she held her knees to her chest with her free arm. A quarter-moon hung high in the sky, reporting on the late hour. Out across the small bay, the water sat as still as glass and reflecting the perfect night sky above. It was, in a word, beautiful.

Timeless.

The roiling of Sara's emotions let me know she was still considering what to say, even as I took out a handful of marshmallows and reached over to drop them in her cup. Her bottle-green eyes widened at the gesture, fondness, vulnerability, and anxiety spiking within her before she giggled and reached up to wipe tears away from her eyes.

“This isn't fair,” she whispered quietly, taking a sip of the steaming liquid as a slight breeze caressed us in the cool summer night.

I was silent, bleeding warmth and support through our connection.

“You make it look so easy,” Sara sighed, her eyes still locked on the distant open waters of the Mediterranean Sea. “It's like you've always been Solomon Adelais Pendragon. I'd be more angry if it felt like you were actually trying to do it, but I can feel it... it's effortless to you, isn't it?”

I hummed, taking a sip of my own beverage. “I read The Agency's file on me. I'm what they call, 'ego-malleable.' There was a lot of complicated jargon, but it boils down to the fact that I take templates, sleeving, and soul-based memory grafts extremely well. The part of my soul which functions as a sort of internal immune system is fairly weak, but the whole of the structure is healthy and strong, so I respond to external attacks normally.”

That was why The Company had cloned me to the extent they had. I was, in a word, flexible. I was the rare type of person that didn't bother having psychotic breaks in order to get over massive changes to my worldview. I wasn't especially resourceful or creative or intelligent, but I could hit the ground running with a shrug and a smile like few others. It meant that, ultimately, I was a cheaper and more disposable option than a trained Contractor or Agent and more likely to succeed to some degree before I died. My clones usually had a few good missions in them before the strain became too much and they temporarily retired or...

Well, occasionally one apparently makes it to full apotheosis. The entry on Shirakumo Tomura was a fucking acid trip.

Sara chewed over that revelation for a long moment, sipping at her drink again. “So you... what? Just accept things on a fundamental level?”

I shrugged. “Or, at least, I don't actively fight changes. My sense of self is malleable, like I said, but at the same time it's also more durable than is normal. Like clay. Or silly putty.”

Sara snorted, drawing the mug away from her mouth at the last instant and giving me a faux-glare. “You timed that on purpose.”

I raised an eyebrow at her. “Does that seem like something I'd do?”

Sara stared at me, the amusement and exasperation fading from her expression as her power whispered into her ear. I wasn't to the point where I could read its proverbial lips through her mind, but I could pick up cues from her emotional state. The somber thoughtfulness told me I'd gotten my message across.

“It is and it isn't,” Sara eventually replied, her eyes tracking away from me and towards the moon as she continued pondering the information she was receiving. “It's something I would expect from Solomon, but you... The Agent, you're so serious. Serious about everything. The disconnect doesn't bother you? That you can just... stop being you, like that?”

I shook my head. “You're looking at it the wrong way. Just because I'm someone else doesn't mean I stop being myself.”

I chuckled at the look of confusion and irritation on her face.

“Think of it like... playing music,” I decided, taking a long pull from my cocoa. “When you hear a piece played by the original artist it's going to be different than if it's played by someone else, right?”

Realization burned brightly through our link, thrumming in time with the clarity in her eyes. “But it's still the same song. It's not that the music changes, necessarily, it's that the hands and voices creating it do.”

I tilted my head at her in a nod. “We are a soul. We wear our bodies. The song remains the same, even if the subtleties of emotion and cadence might be a bit different. Solomon is younger than I am, less burdened, more easy-going, and less constrained in his emotions. Those are all things I value about being him.”

Sara hummed in thought, frowning out at the sea. “He's also brash, prone to anger, and a bit too much of a prankster.”

“Things to keep in mind,” I replied, a tone of agreement in my voice. “He, I, we focus on how our disparate parts complement and supplement each other instead of sabotaging them.”

Sara was silent at the explanation, handing her empty mug back to me. I reached over to where I'd left the platter and retrieved the crystal serving pitcher with the warming charm on it to pour out more for both of us. I added one of the sandwiches and handed both of them back to her, taking one for myself.

“That's easy for you to say,” Sara eventually responded. “You're a degenerate who wants to fuck his sister.”

The words were tired, exhausted almost, and I knew the last few weeks had worn on her. Initially, Sara had been playful regarding our relationship, almost flirty. But as things had gone on, the dissonance had started setting in while the novelty of being a new person had worn off. Even as I'd done my best to ward off her slow slide into what felt like old habits, I hadn't had much success.

I sighed. “If you're that against it, I can see about getting you accepted to Beauxbatons. We have the technology to overcome that logistical hurdle.”

Something within her roiled at the idea, angry and... resentful?

 Ah... I suppose I was more correct than I thought.

“I never told you why I joined up with The Agency,” Sara stated, apropos of nothing as she chewed on a bite of her sandwich.

“You didn't, no.” I replied.

There was another moment of silence, then Sara sighed. “The Agency came in and helped us kill Scion. After that, they stuck around to help with cleanup. Apparently, there's a lot of resources to be had in harvesting an Entity. Anyway, it eventually got out that they were killing individual powers or Shards or whatever. They started with the really awful villains and usually killed the parahuman first just to make sure no one realized what they were doing. Eventually, though... they made a mistake and hit a Shard cluster that happened to be supporting a bunch of heroes. After that, people started putting things together.”

 “I'm guessing people weren't happy,” I stated, taking a bite of my sandwich and chewing.

“Parahumans weren't,” Sara confirmed, allowing a dramatic pause to make her point before elaborating. “Everyone else was fine with it. Celebrated it, even. Outside of a few superfans, at least. Everyone was just kind of done with the superhero shit after the apocalypse. They wanted it to go back to normal.”

I could see well enough where she was going with this. Heroes and villains in her world were tolerated as a function of the fight against the Endbringers and other S-Class threats. Especially if the news got out about what powers really were and there was an alternative to having them around, the vast majority of the human race would prefer that. The Agency would reap more than enough in rare materials from harvesting an Entity's Shards that they would likely even be able to do a limited uplift and purchase the rights to the world to make it an outpost and recruiting station.

“And it's like... that's great for everyone else,” Sara sighed, consuming the last of her sandwich and draining her hot chocolate. “But I went to superhero training instead of college because I was too smart to get stuck in classrooms, and yeah that overlaps with law enforcement here and there, but I'd have to spend a lot of time retraining and get a shitty desk job with some alphabet soup agency until... what, I retired at fifty to hang out with other superhero hasbeens?”

I was quiet as she ranted, her fingers threading through her blonde hair as she pulled at it, a slightly manic expression on her face. “I was twenty-one. Like, I've heard of peaking young, but really? I'd done everything right! I was a hero! I'd spent five fucking years uncovering human trafficking and money laundering and providing support for people who fought the worst kinds of monsters all over the United States. I came when called and helped everyone who asked even when someone died while I was sitting behind a screen and had to leave the next day instead of attending the funeral. I had my own goddamn lingerie line with Victoria's Secret and a set of action figures!”

Sara shook her head, curling up tightly again as she sagged. “And... I know this is a whole, 'First World Problems' thing. Believe me, I know. The Agency was helping billions of people, what were a few hundred thousand super-powered careers in comparison to that? But it mattered to me. It was my life.”

“So you signed up,” I concluded.

“It was more than that, but... yeah. I ran away.” Sara's statement should have surprised me, but didn't. With the way her emotions were turning ugly. “Just like I did when Rex died.”

'Don't let me run! Don't let me run away again! Please don't let me make another mistake while someone else pays for it!'

There wasn't any shame in playing to one's strengths. Sara had been the 'woman in the chair' for her team. There was only so much you could do for a person who's primary power was a non-combat Sherlock Holmes, even with advanced armor and materials. It would be rare for her to be intentionally in the thick of a violent incident. It wasn't 'running away,' even if that's what she thought of it as.

Even as her thoughts spiraled, my own were clear.

I just hoped what I was about to do wasn't a mistake.

My hand shot out and grabbed at her forearm, pulling her to me as I pressed my lips to hers in a searing kiss. Sara, tellingly, didn't even freeze up. Instead, she instantly melted into my embrace. I added tongue, she instinctually reciprocated and released a gasping moan as she pressed tightly against me. With the slightest effort, I pushed her down into the sand and brought my weight to bear on top of her as I captured one of her arms and pinned it to the damp grains below us.

The spike of arousal mixed with fear, happiness, and anticipation told me I'd guessed right.

Kissing her deeply, I reached out and grasped her top before flexing energy and pushing it away along a dimensional axis I'd only recently become aware of. The fabric disappeared, leaving her chest bared to the moonlight and my own hungry gaze. Barely a second passed before I'd replicated the act, leaving both of us completely naked and Sara moaning beneath me.

I didn't ask. She didn't want that. She didn't want to be given another option.

Even if Sara had faced down an apocalypse, I could feel the fear within her. It was more than she'd admitted to. She'd stipulated in her contract that she'd wanted to fall in love because, up to that point, her powers hadn't permitted it. Now, even with 'blinders' for them, she'd fallen into old habits.

Sometimes, even if you know the parachute is going to work, even if she knew the suggestions woven into her being would now allow her to truly love someone else... you still needed someone else to give you the last push.

I looked into her eyes as I lined myself up, relishing both the desire and trepidation I felt before spearing myself into her.

Sara released a gasping, keening cry as her virginity was taken for the first time across two lifetimes. Throwing caution to the wind, I shifted my grip and dug my fingers through the soft sand at her side as I began thrusting. My sister, still faintly stunned by the act and the new sensations, stared up at the starry sky above us before slowly coming back to herself.

 My hips worked back and forth, keeping up a steady pace as I forced myself deeper and deeper into her core until flesh met flesh. Sara took a shuddering breath as pleasure raced through her when I bottomed-out within her, her eyes regaining full consciousness as she looked up at me and-

-her lips met mine as her arms wrapped around my neck and her legs crossed over my body, pulling me tight against her in every way possible.

“Brother~” She whispered, her voice intoxicated with pleasure even as her mind echoed the sensations back to me across our link and her soul screamed with exultation. “I love you.”

“I love you too, Sara,” I replied, hilting myself deeply within her again.

“Inside, please!” Sara begged, the last vestiges of self-denial falling away as her hips rose up to meet mine on the last thrust. She could feel I was close. Another time, another place, I would set a slower pace. Right here, right now, though?

It was about staking a claim, making her mine, and making sure she knew it.

We tensed as one, her clamping down on me while I coated her insides with my essence. We stayed like that, breathing harshly, for a long moment before I rolled off her and fell to the side in the sand, pulling her tightly against my side as I did so.

“You're coming to Hogwarts with us,” I told her in a tone brokering no other reply than acceptance.

 Sara giggled against my chest. “Took you long enough.”

I snorted.

Then Sara broke the moment by groaning and flopping her head back. “Goddammit.”

 I raised an eyebrow, slightly worried. “Not everything you dreamed of?”

Sara blinked, then rolled her eyes. “No, lover boy, you were great. I just thought, whenever we got around to it, we'd at least use our adult bodies. Now I owe Kitty and Willow a shopping trip.”

I laughed outright, unable to help myself.

Sara slugged me in the shoulder. “Shut up and get back inside me. Don't think I'm satisfied with just one.”

Her blush bright in the moonlight, I leaned over and kissed her. “As you wish. Best to get it out of your system tonight. We have the meeting with the Grangers tomorrow and Dumbledore the day after.”

“I'll worry about that tomorrow,” Sara stated firmly, sliding up and over me in a smooth motion and pressing her core against my rapidly hardening length. “Now fuck me.”

…

Albus sat down behind his desk, Minerva taking up a position nearby. Laying on his remarkably clean desk was the sheepskin document which bore the signatures of the Hogwarts Founders. Sara, looking and feeling far more at peace with herself than she had during our prior meeting. Once we were all seated with a tea service set up, Dumbledore cleared his throat and began to speak. “It took some doing, but I was able to find a squib at Oxford who has a rather useful talent with languages. Wonderful fellow, really, and I look forward to keeping him as an acquaintance.”

Sara smirked, keeping an admirable lid on her irrepressible smug gremlin energy. “I trust he validated our statements.”

It wasn't a question, though it seemed to buoy the older man rather than undercut his enthusiasm. Sliding a hand over the Hogwarts Charter almost reverently, not quite touching it, he nodded. “Yes, he did. I took the liberty of tracking down a few subject-matter experts as well and had them dig through the deepest parts of the archives under the Ministry of Magic to find the bills of sale regarding the transfer of ownership of the 'shares' in the school, but was only able to find a document from the Gaunt family dated to the fourteen-hundreds.”

I nodded. “Slyterhin's descendants held on the most tenaciously. The reason you couldn't find the others is because they predate the Ministry's documentation. That one does, too, technically, but I believe it's probably a copy of a copy which was originally filed with the Royal Archives... which, don't quote me on this, but I believe that the sale would have been officiated under Richard the Third, House of York.”

Minerva's eyebrows rose at the assertion, then again at Dumbledore's nod. “That does seem congruent with the evidence we found. You wouldn't happen to have...”

Sara sighed and reached into a bag at her side, producing vellum copies of the documents in question and handing them over. “Bills of sale for the other Hogwarts Founders. Those aren't officiated by anyone you'll recognize, though. The House of Pendragon usually doesn't get along with other English royalty, for what I hope are obvious reasons. The House of York was something of an exception.”

“Hmm... thankfully, these appear to be in Middle English, a language which I can actually read, so we won't have to adjourn for another period of translation and verification,” Albus commented idly as he stroked his beard.

“I'd have hoped we, at least, would have established our good-faith approach to these meetings by this point,” Sara commented, her tone just shy of biting.

McGonagall bristled as he turned from the documents to level a glare at my sister. “Now listen here, young lady-”

“Minerva, it's quite all right,” Dumbledore stated off-handedly, smothering her complaint. “The young Lady Pendragon is correct that they have been more than patient with us regarding the verification of their claims.”

“Albus!” Minerva hissed. “You can't really expect us to be dictated to by these children! It's more than enough that they've marched in here with thousand-year-old animal hide and laid claim to the school itself! But they've kidnapped Harriet Potter-”

I cleared my throat, leveling a stern look at the woman as I flexed my will and magic in a way that set off every instinct she had. “You will watch your tone, Deputy Headmistress McGonagall. While my sister's tone may have been out of line for a professional meeting, I will not tolerate aspersions on either my character or the character of my house.”

There was a pregnant moment of silence as McGonagall attempted and failed to rally as the wildfire of my magic augmented with psionic talent pressed down upon her.

“I think that is well enough settled,” Dumbledore, still admirably composed, stated aloud as he drew attention back to himself and set the documents down. Adjusting his half-moon spectacles, he cleared his throat and continued. “Minerva, I do appreciate the outrage on my behalf, but it would not do to accuse the Pendragons of a crime when they have done nothing more than fix one of my mistakes. And, since it has been brought up, would you consent to discussing the matter of Harriet Potter's housing briefly before we continue.”

I hesitated, wanting to get this done with, but sighed. “If you have the documents regarding the Board of Governors we asked you to prepare last time, I suppose we wouldn't be above reviewing them while conversing.”

“Excellent,” Dumbledore smiled, opening a drawer and producing two rolls of parchment. “I believe you'll find everything in order.”

“Thank you,” I replied, accepting the scrolls and handing one to Sara. Opening them, I flicked my gaze back to Albus. “Ask your questions.”

“Would it be possible to schedule a visit to meet young Harriet before school begins in the fall? I would like to apologize for my role in her upbringing, however unintentional, and offer her a few momentos of her parents that I would like to offer in that spirit, even if it is both late and meager.”

I nodded, my eyes focusing on the wages awarded to the board members and feeling a deep scowl beginning to develop. “That would be acceptable provided we have the meeting on neutral ground or you agree to a binding promise of secrecy regarding our residence.”

“That can be arranged,” Albus nodded with a smile, opening his mouth to continue before-

“How is she?” Minerva interjected, seeming to finally find her voice after our confrontation earlier. “After the treatment those horrible muggles subjected her to...”

“She's doing well, all things considered,” Sara replied, looking and feeling equally irritated by the contents of the report she was handed, a bright star of wrath slowly building within her mind. “She usually occupies herself by reading through her school texts and practicing basic spells, watching a few movies, and enjoying herself on our private beach.”

“We've tapped a few other mundane and magical students enrolling in Hogwarts in the fall to help acclimate her and give her some friends beyond just us,” I added idly, then grunted in irritation. “I mean no insult, but are these accurate?”

Albus smiled sadly and raised his hands helplessly. “I'm afraid they are. The Board of Governors has, in the absence of a higher authority, had the rule of the roost, as they say.”

On cue, Fawkes trilled in the corner, the sound warming and light.

“No, no, old friend. Not your roost, I wouldn't let them go quite that far,” Albus chuckled momentarily, then stroked his beard as he looked at us more speculatively. “You mentioned the removal of a fragment of Voldemort's soul from her.”

Minerva did not look shocked, which meant that Dumbledore had briefed her, but she did look appropriately horrified.

It wasn't really a question, but I was ready to respond. “The operation was concluded safely using the expertise of a talented healer and an expert on dark magic and a further expert on... esoteric magical effects.”

Willow, Illyana, and Mercy really outdid themselves on that.

“We do have to praise the late Mrs. Potter for her spellwork,” Sara chimed in, rolling up the parchment scroll and looking decidedly unhappy. “Her efforts ensured the horcrux did not contaminate Harri's mind, body, or soul. As such, the experts we've consulted are of the opinion that she should make a full recovery, with the added ability to speak parseltongue as a result of her experience.”

 Albus sighed deeply, his shoulders dropping precipitously as tension and anxiety left his body in a nearly-visible flow of energy. “That is... exceptionally relieving to hear. I would ask that Madam Pomfrey be allowed to examine young Harriet as a matter of course for a new student, but given everything else, I will trust your judgment on the matter until presented with evidence that contradicts such.”

Minerva looked slightly mutinous at the statement, but Albus' warning look quelled whatever she wanted to say.

“I assume you destroyed the soul fragment?” Albus asked, almost casually.

“We're currently using it to help us locate the other fragments Tom Riddle removed from himself, as well as the main body of the soul itself,” I replied, making the man's eyes harden, but receiving a nod in return.

“Regardless of how the remainder of the meeting turns out, know that you have the greatest extent of my personal gratitude for your aid in this matter and that, should you require it, I will put myself at your disposal to see a final end to Lord Voldemort.” Albus' solemn statement received an equally grudging nod from Minerva.

At some point in the future, when I eventually explained what we planned to do with Tom Riddle's soul, I would have to remember to either find this moment outrageously amusing and dripping with black humor or actually manage some real degree of contrition for tricking the old man by omission.

I mean, most reasonable people would assume that Sara and I would kill Lord Voldemort off once and for all if presented the chance and they weren't wrong, necessarily. The problem was... Tom was useful. Tom's goon squad was useful. There were valuable assets tied up in those dark families, powerful knowledge and family grimoires, and their utility as combatants and support was not-insignificant.

For normal people, though, there was the question of keeping the collection of psychopaths and sociopaths under proper control.

Most people didn't have fiat-backed obedience contracts, though.

And, sure, dealing with Lord Voldemort made me feel dirty. However sympathetic his backstory might be, the scared and hurt child who made friends with snakes was long, long dead and gone at this point. Tom was an unrepentant monster and I wasn't going to deceive myself about that. Which was why I was going to take a rather obscene joy in trolling the narcissistic edgelord manchild.

I sighed, pushing away those thoughts as I rolled up my own scroll. “If we do need your assistance, we will call. Now, on to this unpleasantness...”

Waving the report on the Board of Governor's actions, I owned up to what had happened. “The House of Pendragon officially takes full responsibility for the actions of its appointed administration of Hogwarts and renders an apology to the sitting Headmaster for the situation he has been forced to deal with in our absence.”

Dumbledore dipped his head. “Apology accepted and I look forward to working with the representatives of the House of Pendragon to solve any and all problems in a reasonable manner moving forward.”

Sara grunted and crossed her arms, looking just the slightest bit petulant that she couldn't tear the old man a new one. “We'll be cutting the wages of all sitting board members down to ten percent of what they're currently paid. The position was meant to be one of honor and prestige, not one to pick the pockets of the greatest magical school in western Europe.”

“The remaining funds will be allocated back to Hogwarts' coffers,” I promised, making both Albus and Minerva preen a bit. “We will also be removing... at least three-quarters of the board members. Several of them also 'own' multiple votes by way of purchasing the rights from other families in perpetuity, something which should not have been allowed in the first place. As a show of good faith, I would like to officially request a list of recommended members of British wizarding society from the sitting headmaster who might be able to wield such authority more responsibly.”

“I'll have a list drawn up and owled over the weekend,” Dumbledore nodded happily, already enjoying where this conversation was going.

“On the notes of staff...” I began, and some of the cheer faded from the old man. “Do I need to explain why Professor Cuthbert Binns needs to be removed from the rolls and replaced.”

On this point, at least, Minerva seemed to agree with us as she silently dared Albus to contradict us. “Admittedly, the primary factor for retaining him was cost-cutting to free up funds for other expenditures around the castle. However, Cuthbert has proven extremely resilient for a ghost. I worry that he will show up to teach even if we move the history classroom.”

I took a measured breath. “I'll leave the hiring of a new history professor to you, as is your right as headmaster. However, the Hogwarts chapel has not been properly staffed since the English Reformation and has been fully vacant since the rule of James I & VI. As we have pressing business with the Catholic Church, we will be selecting both a priest and an Anglican to host services again.”

Albus hardened his gaze and, after a tense moment, nodded. “I do hope it won't come to that, but I accept the forewarning in the spirit it is given.”

Which was another reason I wasn't feeling too awful about resurrecting Voldemort to force him to serve me as a slave-soldier in a war against literal demons. I'd had to pull some strings, but next month I was meeting with the Society of Judas and the Catholics as a whole. Which, not to minimize the suffering of the Death Eaters' victims, but the magic-using branch of the Catholic Church made them look like particularly naughty school children in both scope and scale of the atrocities they committed.

“Professor Trelawney, while an accredited seer,” I began, causing Minerva to blink in surprise and turn to Albus who nodded subtly, “is also an alcoholic and overly-prone to theatricality. That said, I have no serious objection to retaining her services to teach up to OWL-level divination provided she receives some kind of counseling for her addiction. For sixth and seventh years who wish to pursue a NEWT in the subject, I would prefer if you would acquire the services of a more... professional individual.”

“I-” Albus began, then paused as Minerva cleared her throat. “I believe that is manageable, though with her workload halved-”

“There are plenty of staff obligations which Professor Trelawney could take over with a more open schedule,” Minerva stated pointedly.

“We recommend Rolanda Hooch be brought on as full-time faculty,” Sara advised. “The House of Pendragon will be providing a full set of new, modern brooms to replace the old ones and would like to expand her responsibilities to include running the Quidditch matches as well as, potentially, a less competitive flying club.”

“A wonderful idea,” Ablus smiled, picking up a quick and a new sheet of parchment and beginning to make notes. “Rolanda will no doubt jump at the suggestion. She occasionally asks about a full-time position each year now that she's retired from playing competitively.”

“I will preface this by affirming that I mean no insult, Professor McGonagall,” the woman sat up more alertly, her eyes narrowed intently. “But you occupy the posts of Deputy Headmistress, Professor of Transfiguration, and Head of Gryffindor House. While I do not doubt your capacity to put forth the work necessary and everything we've found points to an exemplary job by all accounts... I would find it comforting if you, the potions professor, the charms professor, and the DADA and history professors all hired alumni of Hogwarts to serve as aides for your respective teaching duties. Additionally, I would like to see the Headmaster hire an additional Deputy to serve as a dedicated second-in-command given how frequently he needs to attend to his other offices.”

To her credit, Minerva did not reject the idea outright as she looked to Dumbledore speculatively before nodding slowly and turning back to me. “As long as each professor has a final say on who is hired to fill the position, I don't see a problem with that.”

“Of course,” Sara stated, smirking. “We would like to see talent that would otherwise go to waste put to good use. Given that mundane-born students often face difficulties in finding work within their specializations...”

McGonagall and Dumbledore traded a mildly surprised and satisfied look before exchanging a brief nod.

I took a deep breath. “Severus Snape.”

Again, the good humor fled Dumbledore's expression and he leaned forward, steepling his hands. “Having looked over the evidence that Severus has been failing to properly supply wizarding society with the same quantity of upcoming potion-masters as his predecessors have, I am willing to admit there is a problem which needs to be addressed. However, I would ask for understanding and a potential period of review to make Severus aware of his deficiencies and allow him time to reform his ways.”

Minerva snorted, then stood her ground at the look of mild reproach Albus sent her way.

“To be clear, Severus Snape is a gifted potions-master, I'm not disputing that, but you are correct in that the current situation cannot stand. My main concern is that the man simply does not possess the temperament to teach young children. I would propose restricting him to sixth and seventh year classes and hiring a different professor to cover the first five years. Essentially the opposite solution to Trelawney.”

Minerva and Albus exchanged a significant look for a few long moments before the old man sighed and nodded. “It isn't an ideal solution, but one which I believe he will tolerate.”

“If he displays a better temperament and does not hold a childish grudge against the child of his former bully as a grown adult, extend the potential of accessing him for the DADA position in a few year's time,” Sara offered with a knowing look.

Dumbledore blinked and looked ready to object, then stopped. “Of course, with the curse no longer affecting the position... Yes, that would be something to consider.”

“That... should be most of the relevant matters at hand,” I stated thoughtfully. “We haven't taken a full tour of the castle yet and I've heard some areas have fallen into disrepair, so we may sponsor a general renovation of the affected areas in the name of the school's thousandth anniversary.”

Even Minerva looked intrigued by the idea. “Provided the funds are made available, there are a number of facilities that have been disused for some time.”

I cocked my head, appearing to suddenly remember something. “Ah! That does bring up a final matter I'd hoped to see about. How is Salazar's basilisk? Did one of the previous headmasters ever find the beast or is it still hidden away in his Chamber of Secrets?”

Both professors stared blankly at me, Dumbledore reaching up to cover his mouth with a fist as he cleared his throat. “I-I beg your pardon? Basilisk?”

Sara, the one who'd decided this particular 'prank,' raised an eyebrow as her energy spiked in suppressed glee. “Yes, the one he left to guard the school in the event of a coordinated invasion by a muggle kingdom? Did you... not know about it?”

As Dumbledore's mouth worked silently, Minerva took a deep breath and held the edge of her desk as she appeared about to faint. When she spoke, it was breathy and light. “No... that-ah, never came up.”

The ensuing discussion was definitely one of the more interesting ones I’d had since coming to this world, though coming up with an answer for the presented problem wasn’t particularly easy. Still, we were able to come up with a preliminary strategy to at least lock down the bathroom which led to the Chamber before Sara and I had to leave. Feeling Illyana reach out to me, I turned to Sara, reading that she’d felt the same thing on her end.

“They took the bait.”

~~~

How this became almost 6k words is beyond me, but I think you're in for a treat.

Plans within plans are moving forward. Next chapter of Nexus Event will feature a good bit of combat and a meeting with the President of the United States. So look forward to that as well. This is also the last chapter of NE that I needed to give it its own thread, so there's that as well.

I'm working on the next chapter of Winning Peace right now, which will feature First Contact for humanity at large. Surprises abound.

Thanks again for all the support, rock on, and stay awesome!